


Graceful Leniency

by divagonzo



Series: 7 Deadly Sins [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Weasley, F/M, Gen, It's not always a straight line, Part of Draco's redemption arc, Potioneer Malfoy, Solicitor Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-17 22:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11860890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divagonzo/pseuds/divagonzo
Summary: Auror Ron Weasley arrests a former schoolmate and Solicitor Hermione Granger has to deal with the legal ramifications and political implications.





	Graceful Leniency

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Seven Deadly Sins fest at Sinfully-Romione on Tumble on and on. - _DG_

* * *

“You’re under arrest, for assault and battery upon this witch. Furthermore, you’re in violation of your license from 1999 by drinking at a public establishment.”

“This is bullshit,” Draco slurred at Hannah Abbot behind the bar. “Keep your sodding hands off of me, Weasley.” Draco tried to yank his hands away and Ron pulled him back, pressing his thumbs in an awkward angle. Draco howled in pain. “She’s lying, you git. I didn’t assault her.” He tried yanking away again and Ron shoved him into the bar, cutting off his howls.

“Shut your gob, Malfoy, before I fix your nose once again.” Ron picked him up by the elbows and hoisted Draco away from the bar. Ron kept his voice down, yet loud enough for Hannah and the other young witch to hear him. “This young lady says she refused your offer of a drink three times. She said no three times. You refused to acknowledge her refusal. She told you to sod off and you grabbed her wrist. That’s assault and battery. She tried to run and you wouldn’t let go. You only let go when her grandfather stunned you.” Ron pushed him away from the bar, his elbows tucked behind his back and his thumbs secured with an Auror locking charm. Ron smirked as he pushed an inebriated Draco towards the front of the pub, “You’re still under license from 1999 for your role in the coup of the Ministry. I know. I checked. That license stipulated no drinking.”

“She gave them to me, unasked. I still paid her for them.” He wobbled some and Ron gently moved him past some tables in the way.

“Suffice to say, I think you’re in deep shite.” Ron led him past the chairs towards the front door, intending to apparate to the Auror holding cells deep inside the Ministry. “It’s not Hannah’s responsibility to police your behavior. She didn’t know you weren’t allowed to drink in her pub.”

“I’m not saying a thing to you, Weasley. Now owl my solicitor. They’ll get me out of this mess.”

“Well, considering Hannah Abbot, the co-owner of the Leaky Cauldron was the one who served you a double of Ogden’s Black and saw you drinking it after you paid for it, as well as witnessing your assault of the witch in question, you’re in deep dung.” Ron led Draco out the door and around the corner towards the alley, away from prying eyes. “If it’s a case of he said, she said, you’re the one in trouble. See, her reputation is impeccable in the Wizarding community, unlike yours. The Wizengamot will give her testimony plenty of support, even if she’s not a Pureblood. Hell,” Ron took him up towards the apparition point, “they might even listen harder considering your friends were the ones responsible for murdering her Mum.”

“You’re mad, Weasley. Hell, I’d almost think you set this up. You’d do something like that.”

“Set you up?” Ron laughed. “I don’t give a fuck about you. I do give a fuck about witches being accosted by drunk sods like you who won’t take no for an answer. I give a fuck about pissed posh sods who think that they can bed any witch without consequence.” Ron put his hand on Draco and they apparated away to the intake desk for Magical Law Enforcement. And as he knew from earlier today, Hermione was manning the desk for the evening.

Hermione looked up from the desk and saw her husband standing there, with Draco next to him.

“Auror Weasley. Is this an arrest for booking?” Hermione stared daggers at Malfoy.

“Hannah Abbot witnessed Mr. Malfoy commit assault and battery on a patron in the Leaky. He claims it’s bollocks but Hannah says otherwise. I’m also charging him with violation of his parole license, for drinking in public. She didn’t know he was on license and drinking is a violation. But that’s not her responsibility.”

Hermione stood up from her chair and picked up her wand. Ron knew that look. That look was a flock of canaries were about to be unleashed. “Hermione, maybe I should take him to another solicitor in the department?”

“No,” her voice was quiet and Ron gulped. He could handle her yelling any day and three times on Sunday but when her voice was that soft, that quiet, and that murderous, he knew from experience to keep his mouth shut. She had no qualms raising her voice to him in front of everyone.

Since it was the one person who verbally tormented her for years, he’d guess she was barely holding onto her temper.

“No, I can handle one revolting disgusting recidivist. I hope he recalls that the only reason he escaped justice for his actions and cowardice last time was the waning power of his family name. This time, I can guarantee you that when he goes before the Wizengamot, he won’t be protected.” She stepped up in front of Draco, her hair an epic mess, Ron watching closely so she didn’t hex anyone’s bits off.

“Draco Malfoy, come with me. If you try anything, and I do mean anything except breathe, follow my instructions and answer my questions, I will make you regret being born. Understand?”

“Weasley, don’t leave me with her. She’s completely mental.”

“Hermione?” Ron asked and saw her eyes turn dark. “Solicitor Granger,” his voice went deeper, “do you need a guard for the person arrested?”

Hermione lifted her wand and put it under Draco’s chin. She pushed it hard enough to dimple his sagging chin even up on his toes. “I doubt Mr. Malfoy will give me any trouble, will you Mr. Malfoy? I seem to recall unhinging your jaw the last time you gave me any trouble.”

“Weasley, keep your psychotic wife away from me.”

“Psychotic, Malfoy? You’re mistaken. That’s righteous anger, not psychosis.” Ron stepped up next to Draco and leaned over to whisper in his ear. Hermione hadn’t budged an inch from removing her wand from his throat. Her eyes burned and her wand shook from holding back the vicious curse he knew she had in her arsenal. He should know. He taught it to her. He remembered the results one afternoon out in the orchard. She was lethal, though not unless absolutely necessary. “If anyone knows about psychosis, you would. You were friends with so many, you’d recognize it immediately. The asshole who gave you your precious dark mark, the one you hide in mortal shame now, was a psychopath. Didn’t he expect you to fail in killing Dumbledore? Wasn’t he expecting you to die to pay for your father’s incompetence?”

Draco slumped, shrinking some in his yellow Potioneer robes. “Yes, he did.”

Hermione slowly lowered her wand. “Come with me, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco gave one last look at Ron and followed the diminutive witch to her desk further back in the department. A different solicitor, a wizard with an oversized jacket and tie, took her place at the front desk. Ron shook his head at seeing Draco cowed before his pissed off wife. She would be blazing by the time she got home from work today. Maybe he should get home first and charm the kitchen so she could fling dishes everywhere and they could be easily repaired. Or take a nap so he could be ready to shag her rough like she wanted on her worst days.

“This one’s your cock-up, Malfoy, not ours,” Ron said to himself. Too bad arresting the git required a trip to his own department and five feet of parchment as required for arresting Malfoy. Every line had to be factually accurate because, knowing that git, his solicitor would have him out and home in an hour if every single thing wasn’t properly documented.

* * *

“Name?” Hermione had her quill out along with the requisite four feet of parchment for filing with the Wizengamot.

“You know my bloody name, Granger.”

She looked up from the parchment and inkwell and gave him a foul look. “Every moment that you annoy me is another moment before I send an owl for your solicitor. Every moment that you are shirty with me is another one that I will make sure that I speak with your solicitor and leave you in a cell downstairs. Every moment that you impede the job I am doing for the Ministry is another one I will have added on in the Wizengamot. See, unlike four years ago, the Wizengamot has changed. It’s not a sure bet you will walk out a free man. They take probation violations as seriously as the original arrest charge. Your name and lack of galleons can’t buy your way out of violating your license.”

“Fine,” he scowled. “Draco Lucius Malfoy.” Hermione wrote and Draco saw how hurried yet legible it was.

“Residence?”

“Christ, Granger, are you an idiot?”

“Mr. Malfoy, if you give me any more cheek, I will slap that smug grin all the way to Cambridge.”

“Fine, Granger. Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.”

“Wand, length and core, please.” The please sounded forced.

Malfoy handed over his wand. “14 inches, Walnut, Dragon heartstring.”

Hermione made a note of it and handed it back.

“Why are you giving my wand back to me?”

Hermione took a deep breath. “I’m not the one who confiscates wands, Mr. Malfoy. I leave that to the bailiffs who are responsible for holding your property.” Hermione kept writing until an interoffice memo landed on her desk. She opened it, shook her head, and binned it.

“Please tell me that’s a note from my Solicitor that I’m free to go?”

“Actually, Mr. Malfoy, it’s from the Director of MLS. He says that since your arrest report stipulates you broke your license, you are to be held for a hearing before you can be released into your solicitor’s custody.”

“What!” Draco stood up and Hermione’s wand was in her hand, pointed at him.

“Either sit down now or I will immobilize you, according to the protocols established by the Wizengamot in 1998.”

Draco dropped into the chair next to Hermione’s desk. She lowered her wand and picked her quill back up.

“I didn’t violate my license. I’ve been meeting with my case manager weekly and attending meetings. I never signed off on the no-drinking stipulation. So I could have a drink at the Leaky before flooing home.”

Hermione kept quiet but listened as he prattled on, slurring a word here and there.

“I was at the bar, having a drink, and she walked up. I asked her to join me in a Firewhiskey and she refused. I tried again and she said no. I asked a third time, putting my hand on hers.”

“That’s battery, Mr. Malfoy.”

“No, it’s not. It’s me touching her hand in a friendly way. I didn’t hurt her or have any intention of hurting her.”

“She refused you twice and you still did it. That’s battery, Mr. Malfoy, according to Wizarding Law and English Muggle Law. It’s been that on the books for decades. You can’t touch people after they tell you no. Didn’t you know that?”

“That’s a stupid law.”

Another memo flew into the office and hit Hermione in her hair. She removed the over-sized parchment and scanned it. “Your hearing is scheduled for Monday before a full bank of the Wizengamot. It seems the Ministry is taking the arrest seriously. The witch you battered – “

“It wasn’t assault and battery!”

“ – was under 17 and thus a minor under Wizarding Law. Assault and battery on a minor is worse.”

“It’s bullshit.”

“That’s the arrest report, with two witnesses, not counting Auror Weasley.” Hermione looked up and Draco leaned back in his chair as far as it would allow. The snarl on Hermione’s face was murderous.

“Director Sutcliffe has asked me to prosecute, Mr. Malfoy. Whether the witch holds up under my interrogation in two days or not, the fact remains that you still purchased Firewhiskey at the Leaky Cauldron, which is a violation of your license per the sentencing decree from 1999. Maybe that stipulation was included because you were abusing alcohol and were unable to coherently understand the consequences set down for you. Maybe it was included as a boilerplate requirement then. No matter what, though, is that your name is on the paperwork and thus a legally binding contract. You violated it. The Leaky Cauldron is a public establishment and thus a violation of your sentence.” Hermione leaned in closer and Draco further back, now terrified of the witch with his life in her hands. “I would hope, for your sake, that you have someone who will speak on your behalf that has any decent standing, because if you do not have a single shred of mitigating circumstance to support why you were drinking in public and accosting an under-aged witch in the company of her grandfather at the Leaky, I will put you in Azkaban for the full five years you escaped from the last time you were in the Wizengamot. Do you understand me, Mr. Malfoy?”

“I do.”

Hermione sent a memo flying while she continued writing. “Once the paperwork is filed, Mr. Malfoy, I will owl your legal representative. Who is your solicitor and where does the owl need to go?”

“David Solomon, at Selwyn and Associates. I… I can’t afford my father’s solicitor or barrister. My probation has been working at St. Mungo’s without pay.”

“Noted. I will owl him once the bailiff takes you to holding.”

“Can’t I be under house arrest again? I have to be – “

“Unlike last time, Mr. Malfoy – “

“Why won’t you call me Draco?”

“We’re not friends, Mr. Malfoy but because I am a professional solicitor for the Ministry, papered in Magical Law, and while I despise you completely, I also have a job to do, professionally and without my emotions clouding my judgement. Now, you have to go to holding because you broke license for drinking in public. That is a mandatory remand. However, because I….. because of your notoriety, I will ask them to put you in a single cell, away from others. It wouldn’t do the Ministry any good if you are beaten to a pulp by anyone else in the holding cells.”

“You could let me go. I have a job to attend.”

Hermione snorted. “Saving your arse, Mr. Malfoy, is the last thing I would do to jeopardize my employment. My professionalism is what is keeping you safe while in Ministry custody. See, you aren’t worth the twenty feet of paperwork for the Wizengamot if anything happened to you while in custody.” Hermione sent a memo flying and not thirty seconds later, a hulking man strode up to her desk.

“Bailiff, please take Mr. Malfoy to holding cell three. Confiscate his wand, his shoes, his belt, and anything in his pockets. He is to speak with no one until his Solicitor arrives. ”

“Why the bloody hell are they taking those things, Granger?”

Hermione stood up and got under his nose. “Because, Mr. Malfoy, I will not have you sully my reputation in this department by dying on me while in custody for breaking license. You will live to see your Wizengamot hearing in two days whether you like it or not.” She turned to the hulking bailiff standing quietly. “Bailiff, take him away. And Mr. Malfoy, your employer will be notified shortly.”

Hermione watched the blond wizard taken from her presence and uncurled her left hand. The sapphire stone in her engagement ring had dug into the flesh of her palm, breaking the skin, reminding her of the blood spilled at his residence years prior. The goblin silver band, etched with runes only she could read, reminded her that the one she loved more than destroying her tormentor was waiting for her at home once her day was finished.

She pointed her wand at the wound and healed it, much like Ron helped heal her. For him, she’d continue to follow the law.

* * *

“My apologies, sir, but your decision on this case is mental.”

Ewan Purifoy, Supreme Warlock and Mugwump for the Wizengamot, looked up from his desk and the stack of parchment Hermione dumped on him ten minutes prior. “You’re throwing aside hundreds of years of jurisprudence in Wizarding society – “

“I’m giving a young man a vastly needed break. He’s had a hard enough life the last seven years and he needs it.”

“The law says otherwise, sir.”

“Do you not believe in mercy, Granger?”

“As an officer of Magical Law, I don’t have a choice for mercy, when it comes to following the law.”

For the last 2 days, she argued with everyone who came across her path about consequences of breaking the law, violating license, and treating a minor poorly. No one except those she was closest to could be arsed, way she saw it.

“Granger, give over on this farce,” Purifoy said. “He’s already paid enough.”

“Has he?” She hissed back. “You seem to want to perpetuate the system we had when Voldemort was running the Ministry via his surrogate Thicknesse. One set of laws for the Purebloods and the wealthy and another set, even more harsh, for those who weren’t acceptable in Wizarding society. That is how corruption corrodes the system, sir.”

“Well I think he’s paid enough. Your blind vendetta – “

“Is not blind at all, sir. I’m following the rules, laws, and procedures handed down in hundreds of years of wizarding jurisprudence and you want to toss them aside because it’s Draco Malfoy, the grandson of one of your dearest friends. That corruption of the law cannot abide.”

“Your hatred of the boy has blinded you. He was a lad learning that his way wasn’t right.”

“Your sentimentality and laxity by giving him multiple breaks from the consequences of his actions harms society. He has to face some punishment for breaking the law, and another inconsequential virtual slap on the wrist, go to your room without supper will only enable him to flaunt the law yet again. It cannot stand, sir.”

“You honestly want him in Azkaban for five years, for drinking in a pub?”

“I want him in Azkaban for five years for committing assault on a minor when he was still on probation.”

“Isn’t that cruel, Granger, even by your demanding standards?”

“Well, considering he stood aside and did nothing when I was being tortured to death, I’d say it’s comeuppance for the choices he’s made.”

There was a knock at the door and a bailiff entered, followed by Malfoy and his solicitor, David Solomon. The two well-dressed men sat down in chairs opposite the supreme Warlock Purifoy.

“You’re probably wondering why you’re in my chambers rather than before a full bank of the Wizengamot.”

“It had crossed my mind, sir.” The solicitor gave Hermione one look and turned his attention back to the distinguished wizard on the other side of the desk. “I thought my client would be facing a trial.”

“Under the circumstances, I felt it was a waste of time for a violation of license on Malfoy’s case.”

“You’re not honestly throwing out the assault and battery charges, are you?” Hermione’s voice ended in a shrill hiss.

“I am because the grandfather of the witch in question didn’t witness what happened, only the aftermath. She refused to give testimony when approached by a Ministry bailiff later that day. She refused to even agree to an interview. While Auror Weasley gave his arrest report and his statements, without her testimony, there isn’t enough evidence for assault and battery charges against a minor.”

“So you are discounting the owner of the Leaky Cauldron’s eyewitness testimony too, I presume?”

“I am, Solicitor Granger. It boils down to a case of he said, she said, and in this situation, without her testifying, I have to side with Mr. Malfoy’s testimony, through his solicitor.”

Everyone in the room could hear Hermione’s teeth grinding.

“However, Solicitor Granger is right that the law has to be upheld.” Supreme Mugwump Purifoy looked at Draco sitting small in his chair. “You did violate your license by drinking out in public. And that license, issued in 1999, has to be upheld, in some way.”

“But sir, you’ve received the statement from my client. And you also know the circumstances why he was doing such.”

The Supreme Warlock ignored both solicitors. “Bailiff, bring in the two character witnesses for Mr. Malfoy.”

The bailiff stepped out and within moments brought in Healer David Greengrass and Astoria Greengrass.

“I presume everyone in this room knows the Healer as well as his daughter.”

Hermione gave a nod to both. Healer Greengrass was one of the few healers she truly respected, as a Pureblood. His neutrality during the war kept Percy alive while he worked for Dolores Umbridge in the Ministry the year of the coup. He treated many muggleborns secretly at a storefront clinic in Paddington.

“Mr. Malfoy, they asked to speak on your behalf. It also seems that you’ve made a tremendous impression on the Healer as well as his daughter in the years you’ve worked at St. Mungo’s.”

Two more chairs appeared in the middle of the gathering, for Healer Greengrass and Astoria to sit. Draco reached out and squeezed Astoria’s hand once before she returned her hands to her lap.

“Now before we go any further, would you like to add any additional statements Miss Greengrass?”

“Solicitor Granger,” Astoria’s voice was soft compared to the rest, “we’ve known each other for years which is why I am asking for your clemency for Draco. It’s hypocritical considering I support your work for justice but I ask that you hear me out. I know the law demands payment for his failing, but I am asking for leniency. Let him keep working at the Hospital, and house arrest for the remainder. His work is important, as you well know. While I know what he did before the war and during it, I also know that his actions now are small amendments to his disgrace. His probation is his work, now, being paid less than an apprentice fresh out of Hogwarts. His arrest two days prior was humiliating, considering how disgraced his family name is now. My father,” she smiled at Healer Greengrass, “is helping him by giving him a job and obligations. He’s attending his meetings with his case manager weekly and made a mistake by violating his license. He told me he regrets it bitterly. Please, be merciful.”

Hermione sat in her chair, giving Draco a stoic look. “And you, Healer Greengrass? Are you here to speak on Mr. Malfoy’s behalf?”

“I am. I can see it on your face how much you despise him. But I am also one man in dispensing mercy to anyone and everyone who needs my care. You can trust me when I say that Mr. Malfoy needs healing, and incarcerating him in Azkaban will not do it. I can’t help the young man realize the shame of his upbringing if he’s left stewing in Azkaban for hurting an under-aged witch, even if it wasn’t intentionally.”

“He violated his license, which he freely signed years ago, stipulating - “

“I’m well aware of it, Solicitor Granger. You’ve argued for it countless times since Mr. Malfoy was arrested.” Supreme Warlock Purifoy scanned three more pieces of parchment before laying the stack down. “Now, I have to decide and balance the needs of the system with the mercy that the Greengrass family is asking for.”

“Sir, please, with all due respect – “ Hermione was cut off with a wave from the warlock.

“Mr. Malfoy, if Solicitor Granger had her way, you would be facing five years in Azkaban, for violating your parole. I find that cruel, considering that you are only convicted by me of drinking in public, even if the mitigating circumstances were more than explanatory.”

“Circumstances?” Hermione hissed. “He chose to violate his parole. What other mitigating circumstances are there?”

“Yes, circumstances. He perfected a former potions master’s recipe for Wolfsbane potion, for the werewolf population that comes to St. Mungo’s for relief for their condition. Because of certain methods and efficiencies he developed, those afflicted will benefit from the new treatments, and live healthier lives.”

“That doesn’t excuse what happened, sir.”

“I know. But to throw him in Azkaban for such, right as he was celebrating his success would be beyond foolish and short-sighted on our part.”

Hermione flopped back. “So, because he does something positive, he gets to break his parole, because what he’s done has value to you.” She crossed her arms. “How bloody noble, almost saint-like, so he can be excused from the consequences of his actions.”

“Give over, Solicitor Granger. I didn’t say he was free to go. I said that there were mitigating circumstances.” The elderly wizard looked at Malfoy’s solicitor before pushing a piece of parchment across. “This is a summary of my decision, and binding for the Wizengamot. While I cannot excuse your choices, Mr. Malfoy, and cannot let you escape all consequences for them, this is my mercy: You are hereby under house arrest for the next six months and fined one thousand galleons.”

“Six months! One thousand galleons! I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Six months, provided you can leave the manor for work and medical appointments. You also have a year to pay your fine. To comply, a trace will be added to your person, so should you violate your probation again, Aurors will be there to arrest you. Next time, I won’t be so merciful.” The wizard turned to Hermione. “Is that acceptable to you, Solicitor Granger?”

“Absolutely not but since you are taking nothing that I say into consideration, I will have to file my protest with the Wizengamot and the Minister when this is over.”

“Go ahead, Granger. This is politics and also social balancing, for the good of our society.” He turned back to the remaining people in the room. “Mr. Malfoy will also be back under license for another five years, under the same conditions before he violated them. I believe that will be acceptable in light of the alternative options of incarceration at Azkaban for three months.”

“Three months?” Hermione growled. “Any other wizard automatically receives six months!”

“More than adequate, sir,” Solicitor Solomon replied immediately.

“Finally,” he looked at Healer Greengrass as well as Astoria. “Since you have demonstrated that you are smitten with this flawed young man, I do hope he listens well to any continued counsel, from both of you. As for you, Solicitor Granger, while you have the right to despise and detest Mr. Malfoy for what happened previously, he is still considered a productive member of our society, regardless of how you feel towards him.

“It’s a good thing you feel pity and remorse for him, sir, because I have zero respect for someone who advocates murder of those who aren’t Purebloods or actively seeks my death by standing aside while – “

“Enough, Granger. I will see you in my chambers tomorrow morning.”

“You’re right, sir. I will be in first thing to discuss this travesty of justice.” She picked up her dragonskin satchel and stalked out, leaving the rest in the Warlock’s chambers. Hermione refrained from slamming the door to the supreme Warlock’s office and instead decided that the first one to cross her path with a negative word would have their head bitten off.

She made it to the lift and punched the button. Her temper was up and nothing short of –

The lift doors opened and she saw Ron inside, grinning shyly for one half second before he registered the scowl on her face. “What happened, love?”

She stepped into the lift and punched the ground floor. She’d deal with the mess at work after she had her meeting in chambers. “The bastard got away with it again. I am so sick of Pureblood prats getting multiple breaks and unjustified leniency when poor witches and wizards would be in Azkaban for a year for what he did. But no, because his grandfather was friends with the supreme warlock, he gets house arrest and probation again.”

The lift moved and she stood there ready to bite someone.

“How can I help?”

She turned and saw his eyes were a darker shade of blue. “When are you off duty?”

Ron lifted his wrist. “Now, if you want.”

Hermione stepped in close, reaching behind his collar to his neck and pulling him close to her. She whispered across his lips, “Take me home and fuck me. It’s the only way I know to cope with being furious.”

“Do we need safe words tonight?” He brushed his lips across hers.

“Fuck yes.”


End file.
